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<title>Crimson: The Apple Doesn't Fall Far From The Tree by Littlekookie137</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23311633">Crimson: The Apple Doesn't Fall Far From The Tree</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littlekookie137/pseuds/Littlekookie137'>Littlekookie137</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 14:42:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,316</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23311633</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littlekookie137/pseuds/Littlekookie137</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Crimson: The Apple Doesn't Fall Far From The Tree</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She wasn't supposed to be there. She was far too pure for it, for her skin and mind to be corrupted by the dirty, old men that perused the dark streets. Slinging her duffelbag over her shoulder, she removed her red, glossy, stilettos from her aching feet, sighing in relief when her feet met the flat surface of the concrete. Clients waltzed past her, in and out of the back alley club, Crimson, they named it. A hotspot for rich entrepreneurs searching for their next fix, young men looking for their temporary toy for the night, bored husbands wanting time away from their mundane, unsatisfactory wives, they were all the same.</p><p>Until one October night, Ciara came into work the same as always, hanging her midnight black Belstaff coat up in the cloakroom, greeting fellow workers as they passed through, arranging themselves for their performances or clients. She made her way into the dressing room, a bland, cream coloured safe space, hidden from the eyes of prying customers, and began her nightly routine. Cat eyeliner, rouge lips, velvet choker, and her absolutely necessary shot of liquid courage to get her through another shift of pure torture. The pulse of the incessantly loud music thrummed it's way from the main room, the walls vibrating in time with the bass. Ciara adorned shoulder length, maroon, silky hair; emerald, piercing eyes, like those of a feline. She was the most sought after worker there at Crimson, everyone yearned to get a taste of her, jumped at the opportunity to even be noticed by the girl. Placing a mask of bravery and confidence on, she made her way into the main room.</p><p>People from all backgrounds huddled around performers, completely entranced with the curves and enticing movements of limbs. Men and women alike, piled into corners, merging into one, breathing in nothing but one another, palming themselves through clothes craving release. White lines made a permanent stain on the oak tables, twenty pound notes coated in the fine powder, addicts queuing for their turn. The red hue was a permanent fixture, walls painted in a deep, blood red, chandeliers encrusted with rubies. The only break given from the overwhelming red was the dark oak finish of the bar and door frames. It was the same every night, people would pay, have their fun and leave, with no permanent, lasting effect on any of the workers, much less on Ciara, but then She walked in.</p><p>A lady with luscious, white locks, held high in a ponytail, with two ringlets either side to frame her face. Her skin unmarked, and of a porcelain white. She was clearly from a higher class. She made her way over to the bar, each step laced with authority, and the utmost importance, shoulders squared back. Sober.</p><p>Ciara's eyes followed the woman, intrigued. She struggled ot make out what was being conspired between the Lady and the barman, a transaction of sorts was obvious, but no clarity came to Ciara from that. She strained her ears, desperately trying to decipher the words leaving the Woman's mouth. Ciara remained frozen to the spot when dark eyes met her own, caught after staring for too long. Too awestruck to function properly, Ci missed the way the barman leant over into the Woman's ear, as well as the way she prowled over, only snapped out of her trance when the blonde stood directly in front of her.</p><p>" Hey Pretty, i've booked you all night, come on, let's get out of here?" the last part of the statement was phrased more like a question, she was giving Ciara a way out. An outstretched hand in invitation was placed in front, beckoning her own to join. Hastily, Ciara shifted from her seat, mind foggy with disbelief and the alcohol she had consumed earlier on. Slowly, she placed her own tanned hand into the pale one of...</p><p>" Pardon Miss, i don't believe i got your name?"</p><p>" It's Isabelle, Darling, though please feel free to address me as Izzy"</p><p>Both women made their way into one of Crimson's backrooms, the usual dread of a scene and what was to come, abandoned Ciara, and was replaced warmly by an overwhelming sense of curiosity. Isabelle gracefully sat down on the bed, hands splayed out at either side, a sense of tranquillity fell over the room. Ciara hesitantly mirrored the action, still in complete stupor.</p><p>"So tell me, Ciara, what are you doing here? You weren't made for this" Completely shaken, Ci looked back to Izzy, heart immediately increasing in speed, the excitement earlier left leaving space for anxiety to crawl it's way in. Not another one.</p><p>"I'm sorry, Miss, i don't quite understand what you're implying" she replied, mind already wandering,<em> this will be over soon Ciara it's ok.</em></p><p>"Surely you're far too pure to work in such a...hm, how would you say? whore house"</p><p>"Excuse me, but i don't believe you have any right to degrade my professionnnnn, if you're not here for a gooooood time you know where the door is. I wouldn't waste your money if i was you" she finished her sentence abruptly, uneasiness completely clouding her head.</p><p>"Waste my money? No no, you have it all wrong, sugar, I'd be wasting my boss' money, and trust me when i say she will not be happy when she hears of your lack of compliance" A cheshire-like grin spread along Izzy's face, her eyes seemed to be twisting, and pulsating. Colours overtook Ciara's vision, swirls and spirals enveloped her being, nausea erupting within her stomach, an almost sickly familiar feeling encased her. The alcohol, it had been spiked. How, she had no idea, it'd been a new bottle, and unopened when she had seen it, nothing made sense, and soon enough all she saw was black.</p><p>----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>"CIARA! CIARA, WAKE UP, HONEY COME ON!" It felt like a bucket of ice cold water had been poured over her, she pulled the corners of the fuzzy blanket over her shoulders, even tighter than it previously was, and grumbled noises of distaste at the loud, sharp sound of the other voice. She opened her eyes slowly, trying to fight the heaviness of her lids as much as she physically could, it was like her body was no longer hers, a heavy cover of dissociation fell over her being, tying her limbs to her side. She tried her hardest to form a sentence but was met with a scratchy throat, and a groan that most definitely could not have come from her. </p><p>After plenty of attempts she finally managed to open one eye, searching the room for the other voice, but still colours danced in front of her, like a permanent after-image, unwilling to leave her alone. The idea of sleep clawed it's way into the Ciara's conscience, and the invitation to close her eye seemed all too appealing to deny herself. </p><p>"NO NO, GODDAMNIT, CIARA WAKE THE FUCK UP, YOU'VE BEEN OUT ALL NIGHT" </p><p>Another noise of disagreement forced it's way out of Ci's throat. </p><p>"CIARA I SWEAR TO GOD" All of a sudden, Ciara felt two hands snake their way onto her shoulders, followed by an intense interval of violent shaking. Her entire body rattled, and her eyes shot right back open, pupils searching for the source of the rude interruption. A smile made it's way onto her face when she realised it was Celeste, her co-worker, as dolled up as ever, and a look of pure relief at seeing Ciara's eyes open.</p><p>"What the fuck happened?" Ci slurred, the memory evidently completely vanished from her mind. </p><p>"Roofied, probably type 3 from the symptoms you showed, your client brought you in, ran into the main room frantic, completely hysterical, murmuring that you were writhing on the bed, vomit spewing out of your mouth- was not a pleasant sight let me tell you that, honey. </p>
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